


just our hands clasped so tight

by emorosadiaz



Series: for all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you [6]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 16:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11787123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emorosadiaz/pseuds/emorosadiaz
Summary: “Hey, hey, breathe with me, babe,” he says, pulling his head back up a bit and brushing her tears away with his thumbs. “Just in and out. Yeah, like that. Just focus on me and how I’m breathing. Don’t think about anything else, just—just stay with me, babe. I’m not going anywhere.”Which only confirms her underlying nerves. She swallows thickly, lips trembling around her words. “I’m—I’m dying.”He presses his lips together, his eyes stormy, and that’s all the confirmation she needs.(an alternative version ofthis oneshot)





	just our hands clasped so tight

**Author's Note:**

> if you follow my tumblr prompt fill series [be my number two](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11217450/chapters/25061358), then you've already read the other version where peter, uh....yeah
> 
> once again, credit is given where credit is due: both oneshots were inspired by [this fic](http://murdershegoat.tumblr.com/post/158720658245/ill-follow-you-into-the-dark) and ["i will follow you into the dark" by death cab for cutie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NDHY1D0tKRA)
> 
> title is taken from the 1st verse: "love of mine / someday you will die / but i'll be close behind / i'll follow you into the dark / no blinding light / or tunnels to gates of white / just our hands clasped so tight / waiting for the hint of a spark"
> 
> SO YEAH UHHHH CHARACTER DEATH I GUESS BUUUUUTTTTT THEY ARE REUNITED AT THE END SO,,, I MEAN,,,????? interpret that as you will

Gamora breathes shakily, willing her arms to move. She maneuvers her hands on either side of herself, pushing her palms into the dirt. She tries to push herself up then, her arms wobbling pathetically with the effort, and she manages to get her head and chest off the ground before collapsing with a soft grunt, her chin hitting the dirt with a soft _thud_.

She blinks rapidly, trying to dismiss the fog threateningly swirling around her brain. She turns her head enough to look behind her, glancing between the gathering pool of her blood from her various wounds and the bodies of the arms dealers she’d at least managed to take down with her.

But the explosives in the room are set to detonate any moment now, which _had_ been part of the team’s plan in taking out these thugs and their base of operations, but as each second passes, the reality of the situation makes itself more and more apparent to Gamora.

She’s not getting out of here.

So she pushes herself up with her arms and another labored breath, biting her lip and screwing her eyes shut as she somehow musters up the strength to turn herself onto her back. The movement exhausts her quickly, and she collapses to the ground again with a pained gasp. She leans her head back into the dirt, her hair sticking to her face and neck from sweat. She opens her eyes slowly, her vision blurring.

She closes her eyes again and shakes her head to clear the haze, but when she opens them again, she’s not staring at a dark ceiling.

No, that’s—those are _Peter’s eyes_ meeting hers, his face contorted in something between grief and joy.

He’s standing over her, or so she _sees_ , and now she’s _sure_ she’s not getting out of this one alive.

“ _Peter?_ ” she whispers through a strangled breath, her heart thudding in her chest. Her breaths come quickly and shallowly, as if she’d just sprinted across the galaxy by foot. Whether it’s a side effect of dying or just her own anxiety trying to kill her more quickly, she’s not sure.

At her voice, he’s at her side in, literally, the blink of an eye, now kneeling beside her. He lays a hand over hers, his rough, calloused fingers so _warm_ and _familiar_ Gamora can’t help but choke out a small cry.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he says softly, using his other hand to gently brush her hair out of her face. She closes her eyes and leans into his touch, feeling tears gather in her eyes. He lays his palm over her cheek, gently running his thumb over her skin. “I mean, _this_ isn’t okay, this _sucks_ , but I’m here now. I’m here.”

She opens her eyes, blinking a few times to clear the image of Peter before her. “Peter, you—you’re _dead_.”

“Yeah, not my brightest moment,” he says lightly, with a half-hearted shrug. He offers her a small, boyish smile. “Miss me?”

Normally, she’d laugh, because Peter is—Peter _was_ Peter, and Peter was ridiculous, insufferable, and overly confident. But Peter was also affectionate, warm, and, quite frankly, _home_ , and she’s never felt so out of place in the galaxy, without something to call _home_ , since he’d… _left_.

So a sob comes out instead, fresh tears spilling over, and Peter _does_ have the decency to retract his smile at that. He cradles her face with both hands, pressing his characteristically warm palms into her cheeks as he presses his forehead to hers. It gives her arms a newfound strength to reach up, laying her hands over his.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I never wanted to leave you and the others. And, really, in a way, it’s kind of like they say in the movies: I’ve been with you this whole time, even if you couldn’t really tell, y’know, in your _hearts_ and all that. And I’ve been watching over you guys. Kinda like a cool guardian angel. Pretty neat, huh?”

But it’s not neat, _none_ of this is neat, everything is _awful_ , and, in all honesty?

Gamora’s not ready.

“I’m scared,” she admits shakily, her words so quiet as if she’s sharing a deep, dark secret with him. Her hands trail up to his wrists, her fingers curling around them tightly. “Peter, I—I’m _scared_.”

“Hey, hey, breathe with me, babe,” he says, pulling his head back up a bit and brushing her tears away with his thumbs. “Just in and out. Yeah, like that. Just focus on me and how I’m breathing. Don’t think about anything else, just—just stay with me, babe. I’m not going anywhere.”

Which only confirms her underlying nerves. She swallows thickly, lips trembling around her words. “I’m—I’m _dying_.”

He presses his lips together, his eyes stormy, and that’s all the confirmation she needs.

Her words years and years ago at the Kyln and, later, to their then newly formed team, had been true; _nothing,_ not even death, could surpass what Thanos had put her through, in terms of pain. Thanos had ensured that.

But that means nothing to the claws of anxiety that squeeze her heart and lungs daily, at the most mundane of times. She’d learned to push it down and ignore it enough to function normally long ago, but given the present circumstances, she’s fighting a losing battle.

So her grip on Peter’s hands tightens considerably when a wave of cold hits her, followed by a tingling sensation up her legs and—she— _she can’t move her legs_.

“Gamora, hey, _Gamora_ ,” Peter says, bringing her attention back to the present, to his soft eyes. “Stay with me. Hey. It’ll be over soon.”

“What—what’s going to happen?” she asks, her voice breaking along the way.

“Time’s stopped around us right now,” he explains. “When it resumes, the, uh, the bombs are going to blow. It’ll take out whichever arms dealers are left in the compound.” He pauses. “And you.”

As she’d expected. She takes a shuddering breath. “And the others?”

“They’ll get out in time. They’ll be okay. Promise.”

But after Peter had died, they’d all been a _disaster_ , a mess of explosive grief and anger and disappointment. She’d spent countless nights sitting up with Groot, just staring at the Zune—unable to will themselves to actually turn it on and play something. (Eventually Groot started using it again, and the first time he did, she’d walked in on him listening to “Father and Son.”)

And, sure, it’s been a healthy amount of time since then, enough that they’ve all overcome the worst of their grief and could resume doing what they do best (saving the galaxy), but the pain had never truly left Gamora’s heart, only seeped more deeply into her bones as the tragedy of her home world had since she was a little girl.

The team isn’t ready for another loss.

…But, unfortunately, they don’t appear to have a choice.

“They’ve been through so much,” she chokes out. “This isn’t fair.”

“It’s never fair,” he says, then glances at the dead arms dealers on the ground not far from her. “Well, maybe sometimes.” He turns his eyes back to hers. “I’m sorry, Gamora. I didn’t want to see you again like this, I mean, not so _soon_. You should’ve had more time—you _deserved_ more time.”

Her eyes are growing steadily heavier throughout their conversation, but she forces herself to keep them open, to meet Peter’s eyes after all this time they’ve had to spend apart. The grip of her fingers around his wrists loosens as total feeling in her arms starts to fade. “What’s going to happen to me?”

“After this?” He offers her a small smile. “You’ll see for yourself. I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”

Despite herself, she frowns, not unlike their old teasing exchanges, _back then_. “ _Peter—_ “

“Only good things from here on out. No more bad things,” he insists, one of his hands—Gamora’s too disoriented to calculate which side precisely, her mind and vision swimming more and more with each blink—leaving her cheek in favor of her hand. He sets their connected hands on her chest, intertwining their fingers. “You’ll never have to be lonely or sad again.”

Somehow, she finds the courage within herself to return his soft smile, as her entire body is filled with the strange tingling feeling. She squeezes his hand as hard as she can, though judging by the unchanging expression on Peter’s face, it’s hardly as strong as she’s squeezed his hand in the past—indicative of her fading strength.

Her smile fades then, as her eyes wander from Peter’s gaze to the explosives on the other side of the room. “Does it—does it hurt?”

He’s pressing his lips together when she returns her eyes to his. After a moment or two of consideration, he says, “It’ll be quick.”

A wave of anxiety hits her then, but she nods numbly. He releases her hand then, moving both of his arms under her shoulders and knees. It’s as if he’s _physically_ here—she’s not even really sure at this point—and he crosses his legs before lifting her up, holding her snugly across his lap.

Her head rests against his arm against her will. Through her heavy eye lids, she’s once again confronted by the sight of her blood, all over the dirt where she’d been lying and her clothes. Some of it has seeped onto Peter, too, splashes of it caking his fingers and knuckles as he wraps his arm carefully around her until he’s hugging her upper body gently against his chest.

“Your parents are waiting for you,” he says softly, his eyes glossy and lips trembling. “I like them. They’re really cool.”

“You’ve met them?” she asks.

“They like to hang out with my parents sometimes,” he says, tilting his head with a shy smile. She briefly pictures it in her mind: her parents, Peter’s mother, and Yondu, all gathered together, talking about this and that (and probably how ridiculous their children are). “I gotta say, I got some pretty cool in-laws. They’re really proud of you, by the way.”

She clenches her jaw against the fresh wave of tears filling her eyes. “I miss them.”

“You’ll see them soon, babe. Pinky promise. Uh, without the pinkies.” He looks up at the ceiling for a moment, blinking a few times, before turning back down to look at her. “And I’m proud of you, too. I’ll be with you through this whole thing. I’m not going anywhere.”

A small tear escapes his eye, but she can’t move her hand up to brush it away. He holds her a little more tightly. “God, I haven’t gotten to say this in so _long…_ I _love_ you, Gamora. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” she says drowsily, pushing her head into Peter’s arm more, to completely block the explosives from her line of sight. “I’m—I’m glad you’re here with me.”

“Always,” he murmurs. A few moments of silence pass before he leans his head down to hers, pressing a slow, soft kiss to the bridge of her nose. She closes her eyes.

The warmth of the contact fills Gamora, followed by the heat of the bombs finally detonating. Her body _rattles_ at the loud sound. The room’s filled with flames and smoke in seconds; Gamora pushes her face into Peter’s side and she _swears_ she feels him curling almost protectively around her.

But, as he’d promised, it’s quick. One moment she’s squeezing her eyes shut, and the next moment, when she dares to open her eyes again, she’s standing in the burning room, apparently separated from her physical body, which is quickly consumed and hidden by flames.

And, as Peter had also promised, he’s still with her, standing by her side with his fingers tangled up in hers. She looks up at him, only to find another stray tear rolling down his cheek, despite the small smile pulling at his lips. This time, she can move her arms; this time, she reaches up to his face and wipes the tear away with her thumb, returning his watery smile.

No more bad things.

**Author's Note:**

> OKOKOKOKOKOK I KNOOOOOOOOOOWWWWW that gamora makes it pretty crystal clear in vol 1 that she's not afraid of dying BUTBUTBUTBUT ever since her reaction to mantis touching her in vol 2 and telling her she was scared (gamora's broken and desperate " _what did you do to me?????_ ") i p much write her as struggling with anxiety and i think it's fair to say _anyone_ would be p freaked out if they were dying alone surrounded by dead bad guys and bombs sooooo that's that, pika outtttt


End file.
